“Worshipping at many alters”
“There is a wild one inside the womb of every woman.
A soul traveled on the branches of a placenta
And Oh. She Howls.
She fights the deep fight in her way within our community. On the edges, usually quiet, often mistaken.
It’s not that she is not wild. She is just not wild in the same way. Which, is in essence, the truth of wildness. Isn’t it?
So before we give her howling lessons, before we say she is too wild or not wild enough. Before we divide ourselves any further than we already are. Recognize that We. All. Howl. Each of us In our way. At our own Moons.
Let her love God and wear Jesus on her arm. Let her chant the om shanti and bend her body into ways only your fingers can mimic. Let her lift weights and cross fits along with oceans of soul to find her strength. Let her dance naked against the fire on a full moon as you dance naked in front of a full congregation of fiery opinions. Let her create in her own way as you do in yours.
The same fight. The fight of the feminine, the fight of the nurtured, the loved, the passionate, the creative.
She creates altars of a lived life. Evidence of paying attention. Bones and stones, feathers and potions, roasted chicken and root vegetables.
She may not color her hair, but her opinions. She may not lay ink on her arm, but only the page.
Let her be wild in her way.
Before you consider her quiet and broken. Before you think her weak and unoriginal or lazy, especially that.
Let her be, In her way.
Before you try to mend or mold or school her into your way of Be-ing
Let her be.
Because I promise, whether or not you know
Whether or not anyone notices
Oh, She Howls.
Do not mistake her.”